The Becoming

Chapter Thirty-Five

When I'm sure Avery is gone, when I've watched his car disappear down the driveway from the window opposite my bed, I get up, shower, and pull on jeans and a tee shirt. I hear the housekeeper moving around the kitchen, so I know my time is limited. She'll come up to make the beds when she's through with her downstairs duties.
There is a battle waging inside me. The way I've come to trust Avery feels complete and right. Yet, the need to know all his secrets is overwhelming. I can't explain why. I just know I must.
I tiptoe into his room, lock the door behind me. I let my eyes run over everything-there are bookcases against two walls, a fireplace against another, windows on the fourth. The door into the bath faces the bed. The only logical place for a secret door would be behind those bookcases.
I run my hands over the shelves, peek behind books, drag a chair over so I can climb up and look over the top. Nothing jumps out at me, no outline of a door presents itself.
What now?
I step back and look again. What am I missing?
The doorknob on the outside door jiggles as someone tries it. Then there's a gentle tap.
"This is the maid, Miss. Shall I come back later?"
I blow out an exasperated sigh and cross to let her in. "Sorry," I say, swinging open the door.
She's not what I expect. She's young, twenties, maybe, and beautiful in an exotic way. Her shiny, black hair hangs straight to her shoulders framing a thin face with huge, dark eyes and a generous mouth. Hispanic-Asian mix, maybe, or Eurasian. She's dressed in jeans and a baggy tee shirt over which hangs a white linen apron. She looks embarrassed at having disturbed me.
I hold out my hand. "My name is Anna Strong. I'm a friend of Avery's." I smile. "But you knew that, didn't you?"
She returns the handshake timidly. "Dr. Avery said he had a guest. And that I wasn't to disturb you."
"You didn't. Really. I'll leave you to your work Miss-?"
"My name is Dena. And I can come back later."
She's so serious-almost deprecatingly so. Very different from the attitude of most twenty-year-olds. She almost seems afraid of me.
Why?
I wave a hand at her as I pass into the hall. "No. You do what you need to. I'll be downstairs, all right?"
She nods and turns away and it's then I notice two tiny marks on her neck. They are not fresh, but whoever made them, didn't use his vampire power to heal them, either. I touch her shoulder and she jumps.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I was curious, though. How long have you worked for Dr. Avery?"
Dena shrugs and, as if suddenly aware of what I've seen, tugs at the collar of her tee shirt. "Not long. I had an accident several months ago. I was a patient of Dr. Avery's and he was kind enough to offer me this position when I was released from the hospital.
I needed a job. He lets me work in the mornings so I can go to school in the afternoons. He's been a godsend."
But her tone is less than convincing. And as she speaks, she backs away from me, twisting at the hem of her apron. She's not vampire, I'm sure of that because there's no path that I can find into her mind. But she's afraid of me because she recognizes that I am.
I smile at her gently, trying to ease her fear. "I'll leave you now, Dena."
Her eyes never leave my face. I feel them follow me as I make my way back to my own room. For the first time, I'm aware of a dark side to Avery. That in spite of all his talk about wanting to work with rather than prey on mortals, he has taken advantage of this girl. I know it as well as I know my new strength, as I know I am no longer human. As I know that she senses the difference.
She may have offered herself at first, been excited or flattered that the handsome doctor showed such interest. But she doesn't want it now. Is he still feeding from her? Was it her blood he offered me the morning I came back from Beso de la Muerte ?
I'm filled with angry impatience as I wait for Dena to finish in Avery's room. I'm more determined than ever to find out what he's hiding. When we're together, it's truly as if I'm under his spell. He makes me forget everything except the touch of his hand, the taste of his blood. But I know very little about him-only what he wants me to know. And I've let him shape my knowledge of what it is to be vampire in his own image.
It's time I learn more. Maybe some of those secrets are hidden in this house.
Dena tiptoes past my room, anxious to be on her way, afraid that I might try to stop her. I hear it in her halting footsteps, see it in the drawn expression on her face as she passes my open door. I let her go, listening to the sounds of the front door closing, the clicking of the deadbolt, the cranking of a car engine. When I'm sure I'm once again alone, I head back for Avery's bedroom.
No finesse this time. I pull books out of the case, use vampire strength to move them from the wall, run my hands up and down to search for hidden seams.
Nothing.
Shit.
I slump down on the foot of the bed. I try to remember exactly what I heard last night. Avery moving from somewhere along this wall into the bathroom.
Or was it this wall?
I turn to the fireplace. There's a massive stone hearth with a raised platform in front and storage areas for wood on either side. The storage areas are both well over six feet tall and the one on the right is stacked floor to top with neatly sawed, fragrant logs of cedar and pine. The one on the left is only half full, though. And when I peer at it closely, a faint outline presents itself.
But if this is the door, how to get in? Avery certainly didn't have time to remove all these logs last night, then replace them when he came back. I heard the door close and he moved immediately away.
There must be a hidden catch.
I take a step closer. The mantel is a solid slab of heavy dark wood. I run my fingers over the surface, above and below, not knowing what I'm searching for, but not feeling anything that might activate a door either. Stepping back again, I look up at two big brass sconces on either side of the hearth. Could this be the way in?
I reach up for the one on the left. I tug, pull, twist.
Nothing.
I move to the opposite end. This time, when I pull there is a grinding sound, like a gear mechanism springing to life. I jump back and watch as the left side of the fireplace moves in on itself, the entire wall disappearing into a passage that stretches into a black void in front of me.
I've found the way into Avery's secret room.
I have to wait a moment, to let my eyes adjust from the bright sun-filled bedroom to the darkness of the passageway. When my vampire vision takes over, I take a step inside.
There's a long, wooden staircase that looks to descend straight down, almost like a ladder. The staircase is narrow, not more than two feet wide. One wall is stone, the outside wall of the house probably, the other, wood. There is a handrail, which I grip tightly as I start down. I can't see to the bottom. I can't hear anything, either. There's an eerie stillness that sends an involuntary shiver up my spine.
There must be a hundred steps. When I touch ground I'm standing on a dirt floor. The musk smell of decaying vegetation tells me that I'm deep underground. Avery has built himself an earthen fortress.
I spot a door ahead of me about fifty feet from the bottom of the stairs. I know it won't be locked. Avery would not expect anyone to find this place without him. And I'm right. The door yields under my touch.
It's a large room, maybe twenty by thirty, stacked with wooden crates on one wall, shelving against another. There is a switch to the right of the door. I throw it and the room jumps into stark relief. The shelves are strewn with pieces of pottery, vases, items of gold and silver that glitter despite the gloom of a dim subterranean light-all that's needed with vampire vision.
I don't know much about art, but I recognize the magnificence of what I see in front me. The graceful beauty of ancient Chinese porcelains, the intricate scrollwork of Egyptian antiquities, the simple magnificence of Mayan pottery and jewelry, I've discovered the source of Avery's wealth. Accumulated across the centuries, I imagine, doled out piece by piece when the need arises. I can't tell what's in the crates, but I'd be willing to bet it's more of the same. The contents of this room could fill a small museum-or keep one immortal living in splendor forever.
There's nothing incriminating here, not really. Of course I have no way of knowing how he came by such treasure. Being vampire, I'm sure it might not be all on the up and up. But what great fortune, human or vampire, was ever accumulated without the hint of impropriety? I've found nothing to justify another invasion of Avery's privacy. I've once again thought the worst of him and been mistaken.
Casper was right. My instincts are certainly off. Well, at least I can make this right. I can keep Avery from finding out about my foray into his underground vault. It won't be easy keeping it out of my thoughts, but I will do it. I don't want to risk losing him because of another vague, unsubstantiated suspicion.
What I need to do now is focus, concentrate on finding David. I'm going to have to start all over. I'll leave for Beso de la Muerte tonight. Avery won't like it, but he'll have to accept it.
As I make my way across the floor towards the door, I notice for the first time that there is something else in the room. A bundle, deep in the shadows, that looks like a roll of carpet propped lengthwise against the third wall.
Probably an ancient Persian rug plucked from the castle of a king.
I hardly give it another glance-at first.
But then-
A tiny movement.
Did I imagine it?
Eyes riveted on the carpet, I find myself propelled toward it. Chilling, black silence envelops me in doomed foreboding.
I prepare myself for the worse.
I kneel down and peel back a corner, shaking so badly I have to grasp the rug with both hands.
I think I know. I think I'm ready.
But the horror of what I see is more terrible than anything I imagine.
I've found David.
Bound and gagged and lying still as death on that dirt floor.